The Will to Act
by MelasZepheos
Summary: What does it take to be a superhero? Damian Wayne and Stephanie Brown are about to be tested.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:-** When you get a plot bunny, you get a plot bunny, and there's nothing you can do about it. So I've been reading Batgirl and drawing superheroes lately, and this just seemed like the next logical step. I'm mostly going by canon up to the Return of Bruce Wayne. I have read the New 52, and I have to say I was almost entirely unimpressed. Removing Stephanie Brown felt like a kick in the teeth after all the development she had gone through, the first issue of Batman and Robin just didn't have the spark I was looking for, and the less said about Catwoman the better. All in all I wasn't impressed, and will be waiting a while before reading any of that nonsense.

Also, I tend to imagine Damian being slightly older, or Stephanie being slightly younger than they are in canon. I imagine Damin to be about 12/13, while Stephanie is maybe 17/18. I assume War Games took place when she was 16, she spent a year away in Africa, and came back for college. Also, I always prefer to think that when people say Damian is ten, it's more of a derogatory 'you're too young to actually understand' instead of 'this is your actual physical age.' Just for future reference.

**Chapter One**

There are lots of skills that need to be mastered before one can even think of donning a cowl and going out to fight crime as an ordinary human being. Not that Damian Wayne was an ordinary anything, but there is a difference between solar powered bulletproof skin and his own, all too vulnerable, flesh.

Strength is a must, also speed, agility, reflexes. The sort of pure athleticism that most Olympians could only dream of is commonplace for members of the extended Bat-Family. Martial arts training of course. The most inept of them could take on a Kung Fu grandmaster and walk away smiling, and the best of them could take on a god and do well enough. Father always had reached for the stars, and Damian intended to outdo him.

Most important to his current situation was the ability to pick out tiny details from a crowd and put them together to work out when something was wrong with the overall picture. And right now Damian was looking into a crowd that was very, very wrong.

It had started like any other night, sneaking out because his father had grounded him again and swinging the rooftops trying to avoid the more obvious signs of trouble. His father would take on the big criminals, Nightwing the gang crimes in the dock area, and Bat-Woman could be anywhere. Tim Drake hadn't been seen in a while and the only other members of their team had quit. He scowled at that memory and swung a little harder.

He had ended up at the Gotham Carnival, which was making its usual spirited effort to drive away the nightmare that was living in Gotham from day to day. Its cheerful colours were at best a blight on the austere landscape of the skyline, but tonight they were offensive to his eyes as he perched on a rooftop and watched the children mill around and pretend to enjoy themselves. He vividly remembered the last time he had been in amongst a crowd of them, snot nosed brats who thought that leaving school for a day was the best their lives could get.

_Good structure,_ he flipped open his log and spoke into it, "I'm watching the snot nosed brats who think leaving school for a day is the best their lives ever get. Something's wrong at the carnival but I don't know what it is."

He decided to go in for a closer look, swinging his way over behind the toilets and pulling himself up onto the roof. He kept low to the corrugated iron and stared over towards the Ferris Wheel, where there seemed to be colourfully dressed performers handing out balloons to the children. Nothing out of the ordinary, so why the uncomfortable tension in his gut like there was about to be a fight? That feeling had served him well in the past; there was no reason to think it was wrong now.

He dropped to the floor and snuck quietly past the attractions, trying to block out the incessantly cheerful music. He needed to be absolutely focused on his task, and right now his task was making it over to the Ferris Wheel before whatever was planned happened, and hearing Scott Joplin for the fifth time wasn't helping. He was almost praying for 'Merry Go Round Broke Down' by the time he reached the coconut shy, but instead it started up again. _Dee deed ah dee. dee de. Dee deed ah see, dee de._

He realised that it wasn't just the tinkling piano he was hearing, someone was actually singing along. With _The Entertainer._ What sort of godless world did he live in where that was possible? He 'Tt'ed and hurried on, the Ferris wheel finally in sight behind the trash cans.

Closer in he could see the performers handing out the balloons, their faces painted into the hideous greasepaint white and red of a circus clown. He didn't see how it was ever supposed to entertain children, and the thought that someone in this city could have thought it a good idea was even more baffling to him. People would go to any lengths to forget that their lives were always in danger due to the assortment of freaks and villains who just loved to destroy bright and happy occasions.

The clowns were handing out gaudy balloons in purple, green and yellow, making sure that every little kiddie had one to scamper back to mommy and daddy with. He sneered at their happy little faces and looked back the way he had come. Nothing out of the ordinary there, nothing out of the ordinary at the Ferris Wheel, so why as he got closer did he feel more and more uneasy?

He looked at the clowns again, because out of all of the abominations against nature at the fair that night those were the ones that were annoying him the most. Other people might have called the sensation fear, with the hair on the back of his neck rising and his cheek itching with half remembered scratches, but he knew better. For him, fear was anticipation.

The tingling in his cheek finally made him realise what was wrong, jolting his memories and bringing into play the detective skills he would always claim he had inherited. The clowns were dressed to a man in purple, green and gold, and their faces were all smiley, instead of some of them carrying the 'sad-faced clown' to complement them. The balloons also were in the distinctive three colours.

Damian Wayne didn't swear very often, but he couldn't help himself. "Crap," he muttered as he flung himself over the bins and rushed towards the clowns. He had no idea what Joker might have been planning, or even if it was Joker, but whatever was going on it couldn't be good, and he had to save the children.

He knocked the first clown over and ripped open the oversized jacket the man had on, revealing a bandolier of grenades on a cheap timer. He snarled and clocked the man in the face hard enough to knock him completely unconscious, giving him time to figure out where the other thugs were.

_I thought the Joker was gone._ Damian thought, leaping at the next man and taking him out with a scissor kick to the legs, _so here are these losers?_

Heavy footfalls behind him betrayed his attacker's position and he snap kicked the man to the floor, ripping open his jacket to reveal a similar arrangement of grenades and explosives. There were six clowns that he had seen, and if all of them were wearing similar jackets then he had a real situation on his hands. He scanned for victim number three and sprang into action.

Twenty seconds later he had six unconscious henchmen handcuffed together and a whole lot of explosive equipment to deal with. The jackets hadn't been rigged to explode when he took them off, which was small comfort because upon further inspection the timers on all of them had been set, and he didn't recognise the wiring on any of them. It didn't follow any of the hundreds of patterns he had learned, and in one case he was almost certain that the detonator, explosives and timer weren't actually connected to each other.

_Is the Joker good enough at demolitions to rig something completely new?_ He knew the Joker had once managed to dismantle and reassemble a nuclear warhead with little more than a conventional toolbox, but the most advanced warheads were built on very exacting systems, this was entirely random. _No complicated solution, what's the simple option?_

He gathered all six vests into his arms, slung them over his shoulders and sprinted for the river that ran next to the fairground. Fortunately he was on the right side of the carnival, so it was only a few hundred metres away, unfortunately for him the timers were now right next to his ears, and the ticking seemed to be getting more insistent by the second. The rational part of his brain reminded him that that was impossible, but he increased his pace anyway.

Reaching the bank, he heaved the first armful of vests into the river, followed swiftly by the other, and raced back for cover. Vaulting an old fashioned cast-iron dumpster he checked that his sonic dampers were in place and hunkered down for the explosion. Over a minute later he poked his head over the top of the bin, wondering where the explosion had gotten to. The vests were a little way down-river, floating on the top and decidedly un-exploded.

He cautiously stood and walked over to where one had gotten caught on a rotted piece of an old pier. There was white powder streaming out of it, and on closer inspection what he had thought was a block of plastic explosive instead looked like some sort of clay, that was now dissolving on contact with the water.

_So if that wasn't the plan…_ realisation hit him like a bullet to the spine and he spun on his heel, uncharacteristically graceless as he hurried to get back to the carnival before the situation got out of hand. _How could I be so stupid, right in front of me the whole time, leapt before I looked Miyagi, whoah, where did _that_ come from?_

Deciding to review anything which could have had a negative effect on his subconscious monologue, he rushed back to where he had left the goons. They were still in a pile much as he had left them, only the few balloons they had had left had vanished. _Too late, now what?_

He scanned the crowd desperately, and caught a glimpse of a handful of balloons bobbing some distance away. _Gotcha._ Abandoning subtlety entirely, he drew his grapple gun and fired a line to the closest stand he could see next to the balloons, reeling it in at maximum speed. He went whistling over the heads of the crowd, scraping one or two of them with his boots as he went by. Given his usual definition of acceptable casualties, he didn't even think about it.

The balloons had stopped moving, and there seemed to be a scuffle already going on at their base. He released his hold on the grapple gun when he was nearly fifteen feet from the fight, and somersaulted in mid-air to let his boots arrive first. There was a satisfying thwack and a muffled "oof!" and he and one of the bad guys went rolling into a candy floss stall.

The thug went to attack him, but the punch fell short at the last second. He took full advantage, flipping himself over their head and landing a solid kick to the mid-back. They went down hard, grunting again as they hit the floor. Definitely female, young as well. He turned back to see a figure disappearing through the crowds, and the balloons were gone as well, floating above the heads of the civilians. Damian gave chase, muscling his way through what he couldn't avoid.

Damian had long been trained to recognise distinct sounds in a crowd, and to pull them out of even the most cacophonous din. So when he heard the sound of the female he had attacked just behind him and to his left, he sprang into action so fast it was reflex, catching her a stunning kick across the jaw.

"Ow! That hurt you little psycho!"

He froze, eyes wide and staring. Only one person in the entire world called him psycho in quite that tone. Normally people said it and meant it, but there was always someone who hadn't believed it fully. He stared as the figure got up, wearing head to toe purple and a black full face mask.

"You!" He said incredulously, "what are you wearing?"

"My uniform," she was massaging the side of her jaw, and even with the reflective lenses of the mask and the complete concealment of her face he knew she was glaring at him. He had an eidetic memory after all, and he had seen that particular glare more times than most of her other facial expressions. "What are _you_ wearing?"

He frowned, wondering what she meant, then remembered what the last modification to his costume had been, "it's a long story," he muttered. His conscious caught up with his subconscious at last and he dropped into a fighting stance, "where are the balloons, and why are you working with the Joker?"

"I was trying to stop his thug when you slammed into me, and it wasn't Joker, it was one of the false faces, Black Mask is back in town." She peered over Damian's head, and before he could register his annoyance that she was still taller than him she was pointing at something in the distance, "they're almost to the Big Top!" She all but shrieked, "we have to stop them!"

He turned and started running, surprised to note that she was by his side a second later, "later, we are going to have a talk about where you've been," he said, hoping he sounded ominous.

"You sound like you're going a bad Batman impression," she said, making a valiant stab at puncturing his ego.

They skidded round a group of tourists and vaulted a low fence, nearly on the guy holding the balloons. When he saw that the thug's was wearing a mask Damian frowned, wondering if he might have been wrong and it was Black Mask's plan, not Joker's. But admitting he was wrong meant admitting that Stephanie had been right, and he just wasn't prepared to do that.

"There must be Joker toxin in the balloons," he said as he ran, "he's going to release it in the Big Top and poison everyone."

"Why would Black Mask be using Joker venom?" Damian was pleased to note that she already sounded out of breath, while he could have kept running for hours.

"Because it's not Black Mask planning this," he told her, "I beat up some of Joker's goons by the pier, they had fake bombs strapped to their chests and they were handing out those balloons."

"I saw this guy running around stealing balloons off children, and when I saw his mask I knew I had to step in."

"That doesn't make any sense," Damian said, using a pedestrian as a makeshift vault to gain a few feet on Stephanie.

"We can debate it later," she went in for the slide tackle as he went for the guy's neck, clamping his twisting the arm holding the balloons into an arm lock even as they fell to the floor. He grabbed the balloons and stepped back as Stephanie rabbit punched the guy in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

"See," Damian held the balloons towards her, "Joker colours. Thus, Joker plan."

"Whatever," she was looking around, "any idea what the plan was?"

"I'm assuming to get the balloons into the Big Top, release the gas and poison everyone."

"So why were the guys you took down wearing fake bombs?"

"To throw us off the trail."

She shook her head, looking increasingly concerned, "none of this makes sense. Even Joker's plans have some sort of twisted logic to them, and Black Mask has always been methodical in his crime, something's not right."

"Look, we can debate the psychology of the criminally insane when we're not in possession of incredibly dangerous balloons filled with Joker toxin." He jerked his head to indicate one of the possible exits he had spotted earlier, "follow me."

Her body language told him she was still uncertain, but she followed anyway, and the two of them headed out into the alleys behind the fair. Damian felt himself growing more at ease as the darkness enveloped them, and soon enough his brain got back into gear and started giving him different ways to dispose of the Joker balloons.

Stephanie sat on a low wall and stared at the balloons in his hand. He perched next to her and gave her an equally searching look. All the things they could have said gathered in the silence between them until Damian felt the words leaving his mouth before he even realised it was open, "why did you leave?"

She jerked back to attention and shifted her look to him, "what?"

"Why did you leave?"

"He asked me to." And there should have been no need for any more information. "You said they had fake bombs?"

The topic change caught him momentarily off guard, but he recovered quickly, "Yes. It looked like plastic explosive, but when I got them into the river it turned out to be some sort of clay mixture."

"Fake bombs, a false face and thugs dressed as Joker goons..." Faster than he could react she threw something sharp at one of the balloons. Damian went for his gas-mask and let go of the ropes, leaving the balloons free to float away into the sky.

"You stupid woman!" He yelled, "now the balloons are out in the open and we're..." he trailed off as he realised that she wasn't wearing a gas mask, as far as he could see, and yet seemed to be completely fine. "Do you have breathing apparatus under the hood?"

She shook her head, "there was never any Joker toxin in those balloons, just like your explosives weren't explosives." She looked like she was trying hard to put the pieces together, but nothing made sense. "The only reason to go to those sorts of lengths is to distract from something really big, but what?"

She looked at him again, and even with the lenses in place he swore he saw her eyes widen, "there's still someone in the fair!"

He didn't wait for her to say anymore, springing from the wall and pelting back down the alley with her following him as fast as she could. He had no time to slow down like he normally did for her though, and soon heard her footsteps falling behind. He burst out into the carnival again, looking around wildly for any sign of something out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. A second later Stephanie collided with his back and went spiralling off into the crowd, cursing wildly.

"What are we looking for?" He yelled at her.

"I don't know!" She yelled back.

At that moment there was an explosion from the Ferris Wheel, and they looked over to see flames erupting from the very highest car. People were screaming and running as burning wood and debris rained down on them and the entire thing was shaking on its struts.

There are lots of skills that need to be mastered before one can even think of donning a cowl and going out to fight crime as an ordinary human being, but the most important thing can never be taught. The will to act is the only thing that matters. More than training, more than strength and speed and intelligence. The one thing that marks out any member of the Bat-Family is that when someone is in trouble they will spring into action without hesitation.

Stephanie and Damian don't exchange a look, they don't debate the best course of action, they don't even ask if they're going to risk it. They turn as one and run towards the fire.

**AN:-** I don't really have much planned for this, to the point where it might turn into a one shot. I'll be writing it as and when around about ten other projects I have going, both fanfiction and original work. I'm hoping to start publishing a book series within the next few months, so my fanfiction writing will be necessarily limited, but hopefully this won't be completely abandoned.

I hope the characterisation feels right to everyone. It's about trying to get the banter right without overdoing it. I see a lot of authors who take the one time Damian used the term 'Fatgirl' and then never have him refer to Steph as anything else. By that logic the only sentence that would ever come out of his mouth is 'I'm going to stab you fatgirl.' Also, Steph referring to Damian as 'Boy Blunder.' Once or twice, fine, when she's doing it with every other sentence you're into annoying territory. In general trying to write Damian is really hard, because on the one hand he's an arrogant toerag, but on the other he is hyper competent, so he kind of has basis for his arrogance. It's trying to bring across that dual nature which I found really hard.

Ah well c'est la vie, read and review please! My first DCU fanfic, wow.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:-** Well this was a long time coming wasn't it? I hope it's worth it after all the build up.

**Chapter Two: **

The heat was immense, even with her supposedly heat resistant suit on. What little logical part of her brain could still work reminded Stephanie that heat resistant didn't do much when the metal of the thing was bending under the heat. She used her grappling hook to get to the top, wishing more than anything that she still had her grapple gun, _and wasn't losing that a fun story,_ but if wishes were horses she'd...

Well she didn't know how to ride a horse, so probably she'd be trampled on, but whatever.

Damian was way ahead of her, already to the top of the Ferris Wheel and trying to break open the carriage with his knives. She finally reached his level and pulled her bo stick off her belt, extending it and jamming it into the side of the carriage where the roof and the wall had separated. With the briefest of pauses she jumped off the car, momentarily putting her whole weight onto the staff and prying the roof up.

A wave of heat and smoke belched out of the car, and she recoiled from it, nearly falling. Damian had dropped back as well, but with a grimace he slipped his breathing mask back on and forced himself forward to look into the cabin. Stephanie dragged herself over as well, already knowing what she would see.

Inside were three twisted husks that used to be people. Bits of someone else had been spread around the walls, and the sickeningly sweet smell of charred meat rose to meet them. Stephanie gagged and turned away while Damian stood and looked to the other cars, "let's go," he growled, suddenly sounding a lot more like Batman.

Nodding, trying to hold in the contents of her stomach, Stephanie found her target, the next car down, where pieces of flaming metal had landed on and in the carriage. As Damian leapt to the car on the opposite side Stephanie jumped down to land on the burning hot roof of hers. Getting her bo stick out again she leaned over and smashed one of the windows, letting smoke come billowing out. Inside there were shouts for help that she couldn't ignore.

Even though it wouldn't matter she forced her face into the usual cheerful grin she would have worn as Batgirl, leaning over the edge of the car and sticking her head through the window to see a young man and woman, the man cradling a toddler, "hello folks I'll be your designated hero for the evening. If you wouldn't mind please coming to the edge of the car."

The man nodded, slowly sliding along the seat until he was at the window. The woman stayed where she was though, and Stephanie guessed she was frozen in fear. She needed to control the situation with the child first though, so she stretched out her hands and nodded to the man, "that's very good, now if you give me your little girl then you can get out as well."

"What about my wife?" He asked.

"I'll be right back for her," Stephanie said, "there's nothing to worry about."

He seemed to be calming somewhat, despite the heat from the burning wreckage on the roof, and handed over the little toddler so Stephanie could quickly pull herself back up. The child was unconscious, and as Stephanie held her ear to the girl's chest she could hear only the faintest of heartbeats. She knew the signs of smoke damage, and on a young baby...

Forcing it out of her head she settled the child against her shoulder and leaned over again, "now you're going to have to climb up here with me," she told the man, extending her free arm, "but don't worry, it's easier than it looks, use me as a ladder." He gripped her arm and clambered out, using her for support a little more than she would have liked, but soon enough he was on top of the car as well.

"Now comes the hard bit," Stephanie said, massaging her shoulder and trying to keep calm, "you're going to need to climb to the next car down, you'll be safe there."

"I can't," the man whimpered, looking out over the long drop.

"You have to," Stephanie grabbed his chin and pointed his head to the side, "you see there? There's a ladder you can use, once you're on the other car you'll both be okay."

"What about my wife?"

"I promise I will get her out but you have to go."

"What if I drop my daughter?"

It was a fair point, but Stephanie was all too aware of the increasing fragility of their own car and the woman still trapped inside it. Reaching the sort of snap decision she was infamous for she grabbed the baby and swung herself onto the ladder, "there," she said, trying not to wobble, "piece of cake."

He followed her out, and she led the way slowly down to the safe car, which had already opened its doors to let them in. She returned the baby to the father and scampered back onto the ladder, climbing as fast as she could. She didn't know how long she'd been up there but the carriage roof was beginning to sag under the weight and the heat and she knew she didn't have much time.

"Alright," she said, sliding herself through the open window and trying to ignore the deep groan which came from the walls and floor. "Now it's time to get you out."

The woman was still sitting in the exact same spot, and Stephanie went over to pull her out if necessary. One look told her the whole story though, and she froze as she saw the long piece of metal which had pierced through the outer wall of the carriage and speared the woman through the back. Even if they could get out then she would bleed to death in minutes, long before the emergency services even arrived.

"I'm not going anywhere," the woman gasped.

"No," Stephanie came closer and sat next to her, pulling her mask up and gripping the woman's hand tightly in her own, "I'm so sorry."

"My baby?"

"Safe, and your husband."

"Good." The woman was in deep shock, and probably hadn't even really registered that she was dying. Stephanie knew that feeling. "Good."

She didn't know what to say or do. She had never been in the position before, of someone who needed help in the worst way, but anything she did would only make it worse. Above her the roof bent dangerously and the metal of the joist creaked.

"I'm sorry," she said again, standing and going back to the window. She needed to look back though, to try and tell the woman how sorry she was, and how helpless she felt. But her time was up, and the carriage roof collapsed, shaking the whole car and throwing her out of the window.

For one glorious second she was weightless. But gravity was her ever present companion. Gravity and death. And right now they seemed to be working in harmony.

Stephanie flung out her grappling hook and felt it catch on something, the sudden shock jerking her back to the present where she was speeding down to the centre of the Ferris Wheel. A strut appeared in front of her and she braced for impact. Pain lanced through her shoulder blade and side as she cracked against the metal and she thought for a moment something was broken. Her grip on the rope loosened and she went skidding down to a horizontal bar, draping over it gratefully. Her vision went fuzzy and she decided to close her eyes, just for a second.

She woke with someone pawing at her mask. She lashed out only to find her clumsy blows blocked and a harsh voice hissing at her, "stop it; you want your face all over the news?"

Of course it was the little psycho, putting her mask back in place for her. She tried to sit and winced as the injuries came back to her. Below them the flashing lights of emergency services vehicles blared, and there were people shouting into megaphones.

"We need to go," Damian said, "before my father finds out about this."

"Too late," said a voice from above them. Damian twisted and Stephanie was able to see past him to where Nightwing had alighted on a beam above them. "Nice work by the way Damian, I saw the last of it as I was coming in."

Damian waved him off, "does father know?"

"Of course he does. Explosion at the fair? Joker costumes? Spoiler back in Gotham?" He paused to smile at Stephanie, but she was long immune to _that_ famous charm. "And of course someone wearing the Robin costume on the burning Ferris Wheel."

"Where is he?"

"Back at the cave, which is where I'm taking both of you now."

"What if I don't want to go?" Stephanie asked, hoisting herself up and massaging her aching stomach.

"Could you stop me?"

"Just try me."

"You're not normally so hostile."

"Well a woman died right next to me about a minute ago so I'm feeling pretty unsociable."

Nightwing shut up, which was a small improvement. Stephanie felt bad though, so it all evened out at just south of neutral. "Please come back to the cave," Nightwing said, "if nothing else so little Damian can have some moral support."

"I don't need the sort of support she offers," the Boy Wonder growled.

"Alright I'll come," Stephanie said, "but I'm not staying. It's a cave for bats remember? And I think it's been made very clear where I am on that front."

Nightwing didn't have an answer to that either.

"Why did you bring her here?"

Stephanie had gotten very good at eavesdropping over the years. Once upon a time she had even been able to sneak up on Batman himself. Which made listening in to the shouting from the other end of the cave a piece of cake. She was trying to stretch out her spine from where she had landed on the metal of the roller coaster, at the same time ignoring the fact that she had blood on her hands, and not the metaphorical kind. An examination of her gloves on the way back to the cave had revealed spatters of human blood, probably from one of the people she had tried to drag from the fire.

"Why did you send her away?" Damian was asking, his voice calm and cold as always.

_I didn't know you cared,_ even her thoughts came out in that dry sarcastic tone nowadays. She needed to recapture her essence, her Stephanie-ness, her Pollyannaism.

"I sent her away because she was a liability in Gotham City." _Ouch._ Bruce probably knew that she was listening in as well. She wouldn't put it past him. "You said it yourself. Dozens of times from what Dick tells me."

"And so just because you don't approve of her brand of crime fighting, you send her away?" There was emotion creeping into Damian's voice now, and it wasn't anger, it sounded more like hurt. "Like you shunned Jason? Or sent Cassandra away? And how you can never be sure of Catwoman?"

"Do you have a question?"

"How long until you decide I'm not worth the effort?"

Stephanie stopped, releasing her stretch and turning her head towards the two. Anyone could have heard the desperation in the boy's voice. For all the times he tried, sometimes Damian Wayne failed his father's strict code. That didn't make him any less of a crimefighter, at least not in Stephanie's book, but Batman had sent people away for far less than his son had done. It had to eat at him sometimes, the same way her own past tried to catch her.

There was silence in the cave, thick and heavy and smothering. She wondered whether it would be possible to sneak out unnoticed, but with Bruce and Damian and Alfred all somewhere in the area she knew her chances were less than zero. She was surprised when a moment later a shadow fell over her, and she turned to find herself staring at the symbol of a bat.

"Why did you come back?" He asked.

"I felt like it," she said with a false cheer, "Gotham _is_ my home after all, and I never got to finish college. I quite liked the idea of that last semester at Gotham U."

"I told you to remain in London," he very rarely sounded disappointed, or angry. He always kept his tone level, whether he was dispensing a harsh reprimand or a word of congratulations. Not that she had ever heard too many of the latter.

She shrugged at his statement, "you sent me to London to spoil things, but the Spoiler isn't under Batman's control. She's not under anyone's control."

"Disobeying orders has gotten you in trouble before," he reminded her, as if she needed it, "it almost got you killed, or have you forgotten? Is it too much for me to expect you to follow my orders?"

She laughed, and even to her ears it sounded harsh, "was it too much?" She dragged her hood off her head and pulled her mask off, "seventy one days and you fire me for disobeying you? I suppose that was similar to how you fired Dick the first time he didn't do as you asked, or when you fired Tim because he kept on talking to me? Or how Damian gets fired every time he doesn't do exactly what you ask him to?"

"When they disobeyed orders it didn't get them tortured and killed."

Emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel for years rose to the surface faster than she could shut them down, "and Jason? He disobeyed orders, and it got him murdered by the Joker. It earned him a suit in the Batcave. Tim told me when he first joined you you were still so tense because of Jason's death. Did you mourn me at all?"

"I always suspected there was something wrong about your apparent death."

"And that was the justification you needed to strike me from your history forever?" She balled her fist, knowing it wouldn't do her any good. "Was I ever anything more than a pawn to make Tim come back to you?"

"I told you…"

"You told me on a death bed you never thought was real," her rage felt so intense she couldn't even shout anymore, "why should any of it have been real?"

"I want you to leave."

"Leave the cave? Or leave Gotham?"

"I want you back in Europe where I ordered you to stay."

"Well I'm sorry Bruce," she yanked her mask back on, not caring that it wasn't sitting right, "I'm just going to have to spoil _your_ plans as well."

She tried to march past, but he was between her and the exit, "don't make this difficult Stephanie," he growled, "I know who you are."

"If you want me to stop you're going to have to make me."

He regarded her in silence, then stepped aside and allowed her to pass. She marched out of the cave entrance and broke into a run, not stopping until she was at the outskirts of the city, sinking to the side of the road and drawing deep gasping breaths as the adrenaline rushed through her.

"That wasn't fun," someone drawled from behind her.

"Go away Dick," she said quietly.

"I could do that, or I can stay and bug you some more."

She stood and started to march down to the slums, but he kept pace easily. "What do you want?" She said as she walked.

"Bruce sent me to follow you."

"I'm not going anywhere but home."

"And where is home now?"

"Like I'd tell any of you."

"You know Bruce already knows."

"Well then maybe he'll just start telling everyone, like he did with Tim's identity."

"That's not fair."

"Why can't you see it?" She asked, stopping and rounding on Dick, "he's insane. I didn't even know it before. Over in England they've got someone like him, he's called Knight and he's just so normal. Like all the time. He goes out with friends; he treats Squire like she's an actual person."

"And I'm sure that works in England, but this is Gotham. It's dark and twisted and cruel."

"Well maybe Batman is becoming too much like his city," she growled, starting to march again.

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"What made you come back?"

"You used to be the detective, you figure it out."

"If you're trying to convince people you've grown up then you shouldn't go around acting like a child."

"Maybe if you wanted people to think you'd grown up you wouldn't have gone backwards." She snapped.

"And what does that mean?"

"You, Barbara, everyone's going back to the way they were. So why shouldn't I? I'm Spoiler, I spoil things."

"So it's Barbara," Nightwing said softly, "now I understand."

"No," Stephanie chose an alley at random and ducked into it, "you don't."

**AN:-** I had everything after they were back in the cave, but no way to get there. There are characterisation/continuity notes regarding this chapter.

Obviously so far DC's premise has been that Stephanie never existed. My premise is that she's simply being sidelined by a group of people who don't appreciate her enough (wait, am I talking about Didio or Bruce Wayne?) With something like Barbara's being cured happening, Stephanie would have heard, so not being told, and just seeing Barbara retake Batgirl's mantle without any warning, would be hard.

The rant in the Batcave. I'm not yet coming down on one side or the other of Bruce's characterisation. Right now it's just Stephanie and Damian, and what they believe or feel him to be. Batman is not necessarily the jerk he appears in this chapter, or he might be, it all depends on where I decide to go next.

Nightwing. I wasn't intending to put him in originally, but I wanted someone who might just be fun enough to be around Stephanie. Others you should expect to see: Barbara, Batwoman, Renee Montoya as the Question.

Well. See you in a year when I finally get chapter 3 written!


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